Ch. 230
Dra Toom Dra.
It can be interpreted in various ways, but literally, it means a clash of great swordsmen who can stand against even Dragons.
And indeed, befitting the name, the duel was at a level that a mere ordinary person’s eyesight could not hope to follow.
The referee might as well have been a scarecrow, and the second round was so intense that all anyone could tell was that it was fierce. In the end, it was declared a draw.
To be precise, they simply couldn’t decide on a winner, so they had no choice but to reach that conclusion.
The referee seemed to be a skilled swordsman, but he was no match for those two, who had already gone beyond human limits.
Frankly, they would have needed a Sword Expert to judge it properly… and that was easier said than done.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the third round didn’t even require a decision.
One of the two swordsmen was no longer able to fight.
I never thought I’d see such a sight in my lifetime.
“…Damn it. I didn’t want to see something like this, even if dirt got in my eyes.”
The final third round wasn’t even completed.
Not long after it began, Rovenin’s sword mercilessly pierced the veteran Count’s shoulder, and the moment the long blade drove through flesh and muscle, I could almost hear the sound echo in my ears.
Tteudeuk deuk.
With that angle, the bone had to be shattered.
It was a great mercy for the Count that Rovenin stopped at simply stabbing the sword in.
If this hadn’t been a match watched by tens of thousands of people, but a real life-or-death battle, that sword would have taken the Count’s right arm with it.
As if acknowledging that, the Count dropped to one knee and collapsed, ending the match.
But I couldn’t accept it. I hadn’t come all this way for this. I hadn’t made this precious trip just to watch Rovenin defy everyone’s expectations and win.
Grinding my teeth, I tried to piece together what I’d seen, but my eyes were no better than the referee’s.
I only managed to witness the moment his sword broke through because everything froze for an instant. What happened right before that, I had no idea.
One side’s surging Sword energy suddenly faltered, and then Rovenin took the victory.
It wasn’t even as long as a blink. Everything was over before I could close my eyes.
“What the hell was that! It ended so suddenly!”
Even with what I’d picked up from Ash, all I could do was vaguely feel the flow of energy and see the rough outline.
I still couldn’t see the whole process clearly with my own eyes, and missing the most crucial moment was frustrating beyond belief.
Feeling oddly choked up, I glanced at Ash and scratched my cheek.
As my nails scraped my face, Ash caught my hand, gently lowered it to my side, and soothed me in a soft voice.
“The victory was decided in an instant. The Count hesitated.”
“What?”
“The Count had a chance. He could have driven his sword into Rovenin’s left eye… but he hesitated, and Rovenin didn’t miss that and counterattacked. That was the end.”
That was the flaw with these polite matches. The loser was the one left with a fatal wound, but there was still a strict rule that you couldn’t kill your opponent.
You could “accidentally” kill your enemy in a fight. Or maybe it wouldn’t be such an accident.
“Tch… the Count’s a coward! He should’ve just killed him!”
I was furious. A chance to have everything solved for me without lifting a finger had flown away. Well, it was good I still had the chance to kill him with my own hands.
“Lord Rovenin is the eldest son of the prestigious Fedri Dukedom. He’s also the Empire’s most beloved talent… The Count probably couldn’t bring himself to kill him. Just because Heidrike is uncooperative with Elan doesn’t mean they want to be hated outright.”
“So it’s all politics? That’s not fair!”
“It’s a swordsman’s job to overcome that. The Count put political judgment ahead of his pride as a swordsman. It was rational and realistic. But as a swordsman, it was his defeat.”
Ash, who could practically live without laws, was shaking his head with conviction. The world of swordsmen was more brutal than I’d thought.
Only strength ruled there, and chasing greater power was justice and truth. In that sense, Rovenin might be the one who fit the word “swordsman” best.
“Unfortunately, the result won’t change… To win against Rovenin, he had to throw everything else away and face him purely as a swordsman. Being gentlemanly to a beast is the same as committing suicide.”
“So you’re calling Rovenin a beast right now?”
“…Please forget that. I misspoke.”
“You think so too, don’t you? That he’s a bit like that?”
“I told you to forget it…”
I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t easily accept the outcome. Even after Count Trenpe had knelt and bled onto the arena floor, the spectators took a long time to really grasp who had won and who was wounded.
The silence that suddenly fell over tens of thousands of people who had been so loud just moments ago felt indescribably strange. After that long hush, cheers and cries of despair suddenly burst out here and there, starting with a few small exclamations.
Most of them were heavy sighs from people who couldn’t believe the result in front of their eyes.
“Oh my god…”
“…Count!”
“How could this happen…”
I was in a thoroughly miserable mood, too, but the cruel truth remained. It was Rovenin who shattered everyone’s expectations and won.
A man who could come to another country and stab that country’s hero in the shoulder in front of its people.
Rovenin’s victory plunged everyone into shock and fear.
The atmosphere flipped from festival to funeral the moment the nation’s hero suffered a humiliating defeat, and even those who had bet on Rovenin and wanted his victory shrank back, lowering their cheers as they watched the others’ reactions.
To claim your winnings, you had to survive first.
In that heavy air, the Count couldn’t get back up. Even after the sword was pulled from his shoulder, he stayed on his knees, his arm hanging limp, unable to lift his head.
He wouldn’t pass out from that level of injury, so it seemed he just couldn’t raise his head out of shame. When you’re mortified, playing dead is the best choice.
“That’s too bad… Count… I was rooting for you.”
[Hut! Master is sympathizing with someone else! What’s going on!]
[Maybe it’s because it feels like my own business. There’s nothing more disgusting than losing to Rovenin. There’s no humiliation like that… Look at that arrogant bastard, not even happy after winning.]
Who could be happy like that! All I could do was grind my teeth and growl.
[If you feel that bad for the Count, heal his wounds with Endairon…]
[Ah, I don’t think it’s that serious.]
[You’re washing your hands of it right away! You’re already imagining how annoying it would be!]
[I’m a Saintess in rumors, not a real Saintess, remember? I’m not doing that kind of cringe.]
Ugh, I got goosebumps just picturing myself doing charity in front of everyone.
While I was busy rubbing my arm to get rid of them, the Count was half-carried out by people in white. Rovenin wasn’t unscathed either, but he was still standing upright without issue.
The fact that all his limbs were intact made me even more disappointed.
-Ah! Ah, we would like to inform you that the Count will be leaving first for immediate treatment. Don’t worry, everyone! The priests are standing by, so there will be no problem with a full recovery.
The host flapped his fancy cloak, doing his best to smooth over the awkward atmosphere, but this wasn’t the sort of mood that could be fixed so easily.
“Ash? I thought wounds caused by Sword energy couldn’t be healed with Divine power. Only self-healing is possible. Did I get that wrong?”
Sword energy was one of the strongest weapons humans had.
Because it destroyed from the source, it could cut Spirits, Magic, and even a Dragon’s skin, and the wounds it left couldn’t be healed by Divine power.
“…That’s probably a lie to calm people down.”
“Aha? It’ll be exposed soon enough.”
“Most people don’t know much about Sword energy, and… more than anything, if the people found out that Count Trenpe, the sword of their country, had suffered a permanent injury, it wouldn’t be good. So they’re probably trying to cover it up for now.”
Anything that gets tangled up with politics turns dull. I should never go into politics. It’s one of the things that least suits me.
-And although the competition is over, there are still events remaining. First, the Royal Choir’s congratulatory performance…
Wasn’t that performance originally prepared to celebrate the Count’s victory?
The host seemed to know that himself. He continued speaking awkwardly, then listened to someone who hurried over to whisper in his ear, and started to stammer even more.
-Also… according to the news that just came in, originally there was supposed to be a trophy presentation for the winner, but… the Marquess who was supposed to help has had an urgent matter come up and has gone home… no, he will not be attending today… It’s an honor, but I will deliver it instead… sob.
What a mess. I would bet Rai’s tail the Marquess definitely came to watch, then stormed off home the moment Rovenin won.
I was confident enough to bet all of Rai, but then he’d sulk, and Rai was mine no matter what happened.
Sometimes I want to beat him to death, but if I do kill him, I’ll do it with my own hands.
“I bet the Heidrike nobles will be kicking their blankets tonight and crying before they fall asleep.”
“There will be aftereffects.”
“You think so too? Anyway, now that our business is done, shall we go?”
“…That’s not very polite. Geenie, the event isn’t over yet.”
“I’m not polite to begin with. Let’s just go.”
There was no point in staying when what we came for was already done. It would be different if Rovenin had lost, but with him winning, there was no reason left to be here.
I slid my arm through Ash’s and tugged him to leave. If he resisted, I was fully prepared to nag him and then walk out alone.
-Young Master? Young Master Rovenin! You can’t leave yet!
Watching this, I realized today that being a host was a truly difficult job.
The sight of Rovenin suddenly trying to walk off and the host clinging to him with everything he had was so pitiful that even I felt bad.
“Ugh, that rude bastard. You can’t leave before the event is over!”
“…”
“What! He’s the main act, I’m just a spectator!”
[No comment…]
When I do it, it’s romantic. When someone else does it, it’s an affair! I love myself, so I can forgive whatever I do.
But I hated Rovenin just for breathing. I didn’t want to hear some victory speech from a bastard who annoyed me just by existing.
Since he’d won, that was all I’d hear if I stayed. I couldn’t let poor me be subjected to more disgusting sights.
-You promised the organizers you would cooperate! Young Master! Ten minutes… five minutes, no, three minutes is enough!
“Let’s go, Ash, huh?”
-Young Master! Please say a few words about your victory!
“I don’t want to hear that. Huh?”
-Please… just one word…!
“If someone talks to you, answer them, you bastard.”
I ended up muttering the words the host probably wanted to say himself.
Rovenin was better at ignoring than answering, and remembering everything I’d gone through with him just made me angrier.
I bared my teeth like a beast as I looked at Ash, and I could feel him flinch.
“…Geenie, it seems you hate everything the Young Master does.”
“That’s right. I hate him whether he speaks his mind or not.”
I’d be angry if he rejoiced in his victory, and just as furious at his indifferent attitude.
Even after defeating one of the five strongest swordsmen on the continent, he was just being annoyingly held back with that bothered expression, as if nothing much had happened.
No wonder I felt so sorry for the Count. I kept feeling an odd sense of kinship.
Rovenin flicked the Count’s blood from his sword, then smoothly returned it to its scabbard, and in the process, the host flinched and retreated several steps.
He realized it wasn’t meant as a threat and edged forward again, but his legs were trembling so badly you could see it even from here. The award should have gone to that professional host, not Rovenin.
-Annoying. What am I supposed to say?
-Y-your thoughts on winning…
-None.
-……Your feelings right now?
-Ha.
Don’t sigh into the microphone!
He’d just insulted tens of thousands of people sitting here. Rovenin wasn’t even interested in being the main character.